


In Love Not In Doubt

by KimicThranduilion



Series: Tales of Mirkwood [3]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Big Sisters, Brother-Sister Relationships, Family Angst, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Gen, Legolas is mad, Little Brothers, Mirkwood Life, Protective Siblings, Protectiveness, Rithel is worried, Slice of Life, Warrior Life, but only for a little while
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-18 22:49:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22701091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KimicThranduilion/pseuds/KimicThranduilion
Summary: As Legolas prepares for his first patrol as a fully-fledged warrior, his big sister Rithel is beset by a moment of worry over her no-longer-so-little brother.
Series: Tales of Mirkwood [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/552427
Kudos: 6





	In Love Not In Doubt

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So it's my 30th birthday this weekend – to celebrate (in addition to a trip to Portugal – woo!) I've wrote three loosely related one shots to celebrate my three decades. Do enjoy this first one and let me know what you think. The second one will be posted tomorrow :)

Rithel studied the scene before her critically from her perch upon the balustrade of Legolas' balcony. Her posture was relaxed; one leg hugged to her chest the other swinging idly back and forth in a way that completely belied the roiling storm of anxiety within her. For she was watching Legolas, her baby brother, pack up for his first posting as a fully-fledged warrior. The Princess took a deep shuddering breath – would that Legolas had chosen another occupation – one not nearly as perilous as the way of the _maethron_.

How she wished he'd chosen to be a minstrel or a healer or even a jewel smith. Anything besides the bloodied occupation of warrior. But alas, even if duty as a member of the Royal House did not bind Legolas to military service she knew he'd have chosen to be nothing else.

Legolas' voice was sweet but he sang only when cajoled and only for family and friends. He'd never sang at a feast and never would; her baby brother far too shy for such attentions. Legolas possessed no healing abilities either; twas a power not gifted to the House of Oropher – only Rithel herself held a modicum of weak healing energy – nay that could never have been Legolas' occupation. And as for a jewel smith, well – Legolas was not nearly as fond of jewellery as their father. Sure, he had both ears pierced and Rithel knew he'd drunkenly had a nipple done too but Legolas was not much interested in bedecking himself in chains, circlets and rings – he barely tolerated the signet that held his seal. He would never want to design such things. Nay, Legolas with his wild, free spirit had always been destined for the outdoors and with his wily ways and competency in handling weapons of all manner he'd been destined to be a warrior.

And he'd be a great one too Rithel knew. Still, that didn't mean she wouldn't worry. That didn't mean that fear like nothing she had ever felt did not threaten to strangle her on this the eve of her brother's first true patrol.

"You must listen to your superiors – and that means everyone. As a new recruit you are likely to be the youngest. Be sure to follow all instruction."

Legolas did not look up from his packing but huffed a sigh of contempt at her. "Of course I shall listen to all instruction and obey my superiors. Whom do you think I am?"

"I _know_ who you are. You are my strong willed baby brother who is not afraid of questioning authority and is oft unable to hold his tongue – as highlighted in numerous reports during your time as a novice."

Legolas coloured slightly but still did not look up at her. "I was very young then 'Thel – I have not had such a write up in the past three decades."

Rithel snorted, "You speak as though you are now aged and wise. You are still young. A mere two hundred years old."

Legolas looked up then eyes glaring and cheeks aflame. She had affronted him.

"I may _only_ be two hundred years old but I have already gained mastery level with the war bow. I am not some helpless elfling."

Rithel sighed. Yes, indeed he had; her baby brother was truly incredible – it took most elves to at least their half millennium to achieve mastery level with any given weapon. Legolas had done it at age one hundred and ninety eight with the war bow of all things. The largest, most difficult to wield weapon the Archery Corp had at their disposal – and her _tithen gwanûr_ had perfected the art of it already.

But that was Legolas all over. From elflinghood he'd wielded his first knives with such competency and had extended that into every weapon he'd held since – even the longsword, broadsword and twin swords held no difficulty for him though he did not prefer them nor wield them with the expertise both she and their _Adar_ did.

Legolas would be great. This she knew; he would quickly ascend the ranks, _ellith_ would fall head over heels for him, songs would be written about him but still Rithel would worry. He was young, so painfully young, and how she wished their realm was once again at peace. The Greenwood of old as she remembered it from her elfling years. Then, the Wood did not demand warriors to grow up so quickly, did not demand such a rapid fire turn over, did not require its warriors to be so precocious, so young.

Times had changed, darkness had come and where before she had had the luxury of graduating aged five hundred the newest recruits to her _Adar's_ army now graduated aged two hundred.

"I did not say you were an elfling nor that you were helpless – I know you are not. But you will no longer be a novice Legolas, you are a fully-fledged _maethron_ now…"

"I know, I _was_ there at my own graduation and entrance ceremonies," Legolas interrupted full of snark and the resentment of the young who feel discounted.

Rithel shot him a glare for his rudeness before she continued as though her princeling brother had said nothing. "Before, the warriors you served with when a novice were beholden to take care of you – to the death. It is a pledge all _maethyr_ who serve with novice troops must take. But now…yes, your troop will still look out for you, still take care of you but now you are most responsible for yourself…for your own wellbeing. You will be expected to fully pull your own weight and to pull it well."

"Yes, I _know_!"

Legolas had fully ceased in his packing now and openly glared at his sister.

She had offended him. She had not meant to…she was just so worried…

"I know what is expected of me," Legolas raged oblivious to his _einior_ _muinthel's_ inner anguish. "And contrary to anything _you_ might think I am well able and competent. I graduated top of my class for _Elbereth's_ sake. _Valar_ above! You are even worse than _Adar_. At least he only came here to tell me to be careful and not bring any shame to the illustrious name of the House of Oropher. But you…" here Legolas threw her an angry look that could not hide the hurt in his expressive blue eyes, "you come in here to mock me, to make fun of my age and to tell me the most basic of things."

"Las…" Rithel's soft plea fell on deaf ears as Legolas raged on.

"What next Rithel?" The Princess flinched at the use of her full name. "Will you tell me to not forget to pack my knives? Why are you even here? You can just get out. I am sure you have some important heir-to-the-throne-type-things to do, do you not?"

She had truly insulted him. She had not meant to…but her worry…

Legolas was so young and he shone with such purity and such brilliance; he would be a target for the fell things that now threatened their forest. The things of the Darkness hated the ones who walked in light so brilliant as Legolas did…as their _Naneth_ had…

"I will go – I did not mean to overstay my welcome nor to insult you. You are my _tithen gwanûr_ and you are brilliant. All the weapons masters say so, even Crown Commander Aglardaer sings your praises when he thinks there are none close to you to hear. I know you can and will handle yourself excellently. But I love you Las – I utterly adore you – have done ever since you were first presented to me. It is hard for me to be anything but protective. Things can go so wrong on a patrol – even on one as tame as Dragon Watch. We are beset by an ever increasing Darkness and I worry."

Rithel heaved a sigh, leapt up and quickly crossed to press a kiss to Legolas' still angrily creased brow. "If I may say one thing more it would be this – _hannon-le_ for going forth into the fray to help in keeping our realm and our people safe. Go well _Lasseg_ – I will be here when you return triumphant."

Rithel pulled away to leave via the balcony she had come, heart heavy at her argument with her brother. Yet ere she had moved two steps she'd been enveloped in a hug. A Legolas hug - all squeezing arms, hair everywhere and laughter.

"Thank you 'Thel. I promise you I will take care, do my best by _Adar_ , my Captain and the realm. And I will do my best to return to you unscathed."

Rithel squeezed tightly back, "I know you will Las, I know. I have every faith."

**END.**

**Author's Note:**

> Maethron / Maethyr – Warrior / Warriors (plural)
> 
> Tithen Gwanûr – Little Brother
> 
> Adar – Father
> 
> Ellith – Female Elves
> 
> Einior Muinthel – Elder Sister
> 
> Naneth – Mother
> 
> Hannon-le – Thank you
> 
> Lasseg – Little Leaf – Family nickname for Legolas


End file.
